Yeah, well that's not as big a problem as figuring out what kind of person
would spend the treasure chest equivalent of a not-so-small country and work
his, or (and soon) her, ass off to get such a job, one that most of us would,
to be polite, shy away from.
It's a little bit like the humorist who claimed that he would refuse to belong
to any club that would accept him as a member.
My first lesson in what it does to people was when I got a look at Ike in,
IIRC, late '59, after seeing him on TV a few years earlier (b&w TV for the
early view may explain part of it, of course, as people look different in
person than they do even on color TV): he looked like hell, even though he was
smiling and cheerful sounding. Facial lines, worry lines, all sorts of sags in
the face. It may have been health, it may well have been lack of sleep, but it
was fairly obvious that the worry of the Presidency had worn him down as
nothing had before. Carter, in just four years, aged more than he has in the
succeeding 20. Even Clinton the carefree aged more than the eight years he was
The job is a killer and there are no real thanks in the century in which the
person filling the job lives.
I wouldn't care to work hard enough to get elected, never mind put myself
through all the minute-by-minute tensions of such a job.
"The whole aim of practical politics is to keep the populace alarmed (and hence
clamorous to be led to safety) by menacing it with an endless series of
hobgoblins, all of them imaginary." H. L. Mencken
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